Category Archives: chocolate
I’m no angel when it comes to brownies…
I love, love them!! Especially homemade when the chocolate ganache icing gets all gooey when you spread it over the warm brownie. ”
Who can wait to let them cool? Back to writing . . .
Eye candy for today . . .
I wish they would make book covers made of chocolate…yummy!
Just think, you could enjoy a satisfying read while eating chocolate…oh, God, it doesn’t get better than that!
So until then, I’m waiting to hear back re: my Italian Billionaire Prince story…
1943 Italy and Art Stolen by the Nazis: Excerpt from “A Soldier’s Italian Christmas” for #Christmas Day
Merry Christmas!! Art is a big part of my life — so it’s no wonder I wrote about stolen art. Here’s a favorite post from A Soldier’s Italian Christmas.
Sister Angelina discovers what the Nazis are up to in my story and risks her life to save the art treasures. Here she is in the Monastery of Monte D’Oro Rose.
A Soldier’s Italian Christmas deals with art stolen by the Nazis.
Sister Angelina and Capt. Mack O’Casey are spying on the brutal Nazi major in this scene through a peephole from their hiding place:
The library was filled with drunken Nazis.
Angelina focused on the outrageous behavior of the German officer with the pretty brunette on his lap. Ines. “Oh, my Lord…” she whispered, and then blessed herself. Major von Arx sat at the long table where the monks prayed, running his fingers up and down the girl’s shiny, smooth stockings. Silk. Ines let out a breathy sigh when he parted her thighs and his hand dove under her skirt.
Embarrassed, the young nun looked away from the spy hole.
Oh, the shame. What would the captain think if he saw her watching them?
“What is it, Sister?”
“Nothing but the devil at play,” she said, her cheeks flaming.
“Your words intrigue me.” The captain put his eye to the peephole and smirked. “Are you certain he doesn’t know we’re watching him?”
“Yes, but we must be careful he doesn’t see us. The peephole was hidden by priceless Renaissance paintings,” she said, wishing she’d never brought him here. “Until the Nazi major stole them.”
“Yes. The German officer ordered his guards to remove the paintings and ready them for transport. For the Fuehrer, he said. Two days ago, I hid in the tower and watched his men leave through the narrow passage and head down the mountain with mules packed with wooden crates.”
“Men died trying to climb these mountains, Sister,” said the captain, not trying to hide the raw edge to his voice. “Good men. Brave men. The mud, the stench of death all around us, but we kept going. For what? So this Nazi bastard could steal from the Church?”
His eyes glowed a vibrant blue more intense than a cloudless sky. Angelina felt deep into her bones here was a man of faith who could be trusted. A man who stirred her soul with the desire to feel his strong arms around her. Sweet yearnings to feel skin against skin that tore her apart. Especially at night when her small cell was dark and her cotton chemise stuck to her body drenched in sweat, feelings she didn’t understand tormenting her. The captain brought those feelings to the surface.
He was dangerous to her.
Dear God, why must you lead me into temptation?
“We must return to the orphanage so you can rest before it’s time for you to leave,” she said. It saddened her to send him on his way, but she must. “I will lead you through the secret passage down the mountain. From there you can take the road north to Rome. I will see to it Marcello brings you the abbot’s finest wine to take with you on your journey.”
“Do you think God would approve?” he said with a grin.
“Yes, though He doesn’t always approve of what I’ve done.”
“Are you telling me the sweet angel before me is not what she seems?”
Angelina blinked. Had he guessed her secret?